Juxtapose
by Princess Calico
Summary: There was only one. One Dovahkiin destined to protect the world from its impending apocalypse. It rode on his shoulders, bearing every weight imaginable in his arm and his head held high in false pride. He was foolish, believing with every fiber of his being that he could take on the Nordic god of destruction and return unscathed. Now there is no one left to stall the inevitable.
1. Prolouge

We all believed in the beginning of the end.

Whether we admit it or not, our souls have been convicted since the day they existed. We've seen the signs and felt the tremors of nature within us. We've heard the priests and the soothsayers and the ancient voices of the stone tablets exiled to the grave depths of our ancestor's memory. We knew of the cataclysmic destruction to the greatest empires in history. We've trembled in fear and uncertainty when the psalms of oblivion were sung even in broad daylight.

We've all been warned.

But we have failed to take heed.

The war cries of free will and fate will soon be silenced by the demon-winged shadow that has come to take all names, be it man, woman, or child.

No matter whom you are.

No matter what you are.

No matter whom you claim to be.

**Death's gaping jaws will swallow you whole.**


	2. Dream Landing

It was bleak that Frostfall morning.

Alfarinn slowed the carriage to a creaking halt as his horse whinnied and nibbled on the bit in its mouth.

"Well, here's your stop." He said, pointing towards the mouth of Winterhold. "The college is just beyond this road. Can't miss it."

The passenger behind him gripped the side of the carriage and stepped onto the snow-latticed brick, knuckles white as bone. The horse watched the small figure clad in thick robes walk past and pet its head sweetly.

"You be careful out there." The mage crooned.

The steed neighed and pushed at the hand on its nose as Alfarinn guided it away, the wooden carriage rattling along the brick. The mage waved at him. "Thanks Alfarinn! You be careful too!" she called.

"Youngins." He grunted, lifting a hand goodbye.

The mage only smiled, unfazed by the comment, and power-walked towards the Frozen Hearth inn, eager to escape the biting flurries of snow. Passing Nords stared at the cloaked arcanist, murmuring complaints of "damn magic tricks" and "too risky experiments." Some even suspected Daedra worship simply because of the apprentice robes the mage sported. The student-to-be paid no mind. It only reinforced the resolve the mage carried.

The arcane arts will thrive in this newblood.

The mage struggled with the door before throwing it open and hurrying inside, immediately crouching in front of the hearth in the middle of the room. The Frozen Hearth was nearly vacant, the mage noted, looking around with curious eyes and palms near the fire. Not even the innkeeper was in sight.

"Where is everyone?" the arcanist yawned, exhausted.

"In their homes, most likely. The people of Winterhold don't take too kindly to mages." A male voice answered.

"So I see. Dark robes equal Daedra and missing children, right?" the young mage turned to the left, smiling.

The Altmer clad in apprentice robes chuckled. "Indeed." He shifted to face the mage, watching with a speculative eye. "I suspect you intend on joining the college?" he asked, brushing something off of his dark sleeve.

"You suspect correctly." The mage chimed in reply. "It's my father's wish as well as mine to master my talents. He used to be a student here himself." The mage smiled at the fire, eyes dimmed affectionately. "Feels like I'm wearing my old man's boots."

"How noble…" the Altmer murmured.

The mage sat down, hands flexing. "So are you-"

"I don't bother with college applicants these days, so don't bother asking." He interrupted irritably.

The younger mage blinked confused eyes. "I…wasn't going to? I was just wondering if you were with the college at all."

The older mage looked constipated. "No…Gods no, not for years. I left Winterhold for some time after deserting that damnable place."

"Oh?"

A cross shadow suddenly veiled over the Altmer's squinting orange eyes. The room seemed to grow cold despite the warmth of the fire. The mage shivered.

"They believed my experiments were too…risky, shall we say. Claimed I was endangering the less experienced students with my work. The college does not condone further research nor does it support it. It's an excellent for learning spells…for novices." He huffed, adjusting his hood.

"Smothering genius?" tried the mage with a light voice.

"Exactly."

The Altmer leaned back, the shadow disappearing. "My days at the college are long behind me, but I like to stay close by. I still have research that keeps me busy and being here at Winterhold ensures I have access to former colleagues." The Altmer stood when the small mage suddenly spoke. "What's your name, if you don't mind me asking?" The older mage snorted.

"Nelacar." He answered as he walked past the sitting figure. He paused at the door, a slender gold-tinted hand resting on the old wood. "And what of you human? What are you called?"

The young arcanist stood, stretching and pushing the hood off the short bob of dark hair. "I'm Nora Cain."

Nelacar stared at her bemusedly. "Such curious eyes…" he said to himself absently. Nora yawned and fished in her satchel for a few septims, paying the Altmer no mind. He nodded his dismissal and disappeared into the northern cold, a bit of snow wafting in and melting on the floorboards. The inn was quiet save the fire's soft murmur by the mage's side.

"Huh. Weird guy."

Nora took a deep breath and walked towards a spare room in the far back, drowsiness creeping around her eyelids. She dropped her gold on the counter and stumbled into her room, not even bothering to close the door behind her. She collapsed on the sheets and fired a small lightning bolt that shut the door.

"I did it…I finally made it dad…" she mumbled in her sheets, drifting off.

_The damp smell of snow ridden earth surrounds her nose. The chill of the early morning seeps through the thin linen cloth cloaking her body. Nora realizes she's laying on her back. She opens her gold-laced orchid eyes and sees nothing but a beautiful display of stars stretched across the sky like a cosmic elastic. A sigh of cold wind. A stroke of chilled brush. A distant mudcrab scuttling away. The marsh is silent once more._

_Nora turns her head to the right. The glow from the candle wasn't comforting It only added to the weird tummy feeling she had right then. Nora turns her head to the left. There is someone beside, someone much bigger than her, but she can't tell who it is. He or she is blurry._

_Nora lifts up a hand to poke what she thinks is his or her nose, but her arm is swaddled in with the rest of her body. She opens her mouth to complain, but all she hears is a muffled train of gibberish. But...that's not what she's saying. Why do her words sound so funny?_

"_Quite the talkative one aren't you." Says a man's voice._

_Nora turns her head again, back to the star-dappled sky, and finds it interrupted by a great, looming figure. She's startled but doesn't cry out. She simply watched in curiosity._

"_Who are you?" she asks. Again. Mindless babble._

_The giant walks to her side and crouches, fumbling around in what looked like a satchel. He pulls out a dagger and a bunch of light-purple flower petals and turns to stare at her. "You'll do absolutely perfect." He says in a lucrative voice._

_Nora frowns. She doesn't like this man. His creepy smile makes her cringe and his beady black eyes scare her a little. They even twinkle with a strange maliciousness. It makes her squirm in her linen wrap._

"_Be a good, sweet child now and don't make a sound." He coos as he pets her hair. Nora whimpers._

"_Hands odd you creep!" she shouts. However, the sound she makes sounds like a baby's whine._

"_Ssh shh shh…" the man whispers. "It'll all be over soon. You'll be with your _ and idiotic _ in the _ of o_ before you know it."_

_Nora blinks, unsure about what he just said. The man walks away from her and starts talking incoherently. It confuses Nora. She watches him speak, his arms lifted and head bowed as if offering a prayer. The weird feeling in her stomach gets worse. Nora feels like crying now. She's very nervous._

_The candles around her start burning hotter and hotter, almost scorching. But for some reason, she can't feel the heat anymore. She doesn't feel the blanket or the cold ground either. Nora knows she's being lifted, but she doesn't feel anyone holding her up. She tries to turn her head, but it won't move. In fact, her entire body won't move. She's paralyzed._

_Nora isn't nervous; she's terrified._

_Nora wants to cry, wants to expel that foul churning in her belly, but she can't speak. From the corner of her eye, she sees a dark purple light flying around beside her. It looks like it's circling around the burry person who lay beside her. She doesn't see him or her. The light keeps flashing in front her until she's surrounded in it. Nora really wants to cry. This light was scary. It was cold and she keeps seeing faces with no eyes and big, black holes for mouths. She wants to close her eyes. She doesn't want to look. She's scared…so very scared._

_Nora's eyes grow wide when a very big face stops in front of her. Its mouth looks way too big for it and it keeps getting bigger._

_She is absolutely petrified when the face draws backwards and rushes straight at her, its mouth wide open to swallow her whole._

_The only thing she hears is her screams mingled with the thousands of others._

"Mm…"

The sun was high when Nora stirred awake. The constant winds of Winterhold still blew, but with a gentle, caressing feel. A youthful mage lay tangled in her bed sheets like a four year old's version of a gourmet sweet roll. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, hands lingering on her round peach-colored cheeks.

"I bet my hair's a mess." She mumbled, detangling herself from the soft linens and stretching her arms above her head. Nora stayed still after moments, listening to the outside breeze intently.

"_Same dream…"_ she thought.

It was the same dream archanist Nora Cain has dreamt since she was a twelve year old girl living in the slums of Windhelm with her elven father. At fist, it worried her that the dreams kept repeating night after night, no matter what spell her father tried to ease her frightened mind. Townsfolk spread the rumors, each one more fantastic than the last, about the child who was to doom all of Skyrim. Everyone feared her for a time, all except the dark elves who knew her since infancy. The Nords even used her nightly horrors as an excuse to mistreat the Dunmer. But as the years passed and Nora grew older, nothing happened. Rumors killed themselves. The Nords let the girl be. Nora learned how to live with her bizarre ailment, and, soon enough, it no longer made her scream herself awake.

The mage drew ina deep breath and headed for the door, patting down her unruly hair. She strode outside and made for the foot of the bridge to the College of Winterhold.

Nora stared ahead and sucked in the crisp winter air to steel her nerves. With a fire in her eyes, the mage stepped forward.

"Let's do this."


End file.
